Tired of the city walls in daily life, I set sail on the clear Ru River.
A stretch of blue water gleams afar; iron-hued cliffs stand ancient on both sides.
Sunlight dances upon the midstream; sand patterns scatter before the isle.
Rapids roar beneath Duke's Bridge; green grass clothes King Xiang's tomb.
Garden blossoms embrace drifting foam; wind-tossed leaves fall with lingering rain.
I stop the oars to play with mountain springs, lean on a staff past flowered slopes.
Clear pools hold scattered rocks; broken stones bar fallen trees.
Fish fins stretch through swimming waves; frog heads thrust angrily from caves.
A lone goose pierces distant clouds; flocks of gulls peck at water plants.
Mulberry and oak thrive in spring villages; cattle and sheep roam the wide river at dusk.
Turning back, green trees fade from sight; rolling up the curtain, blue peaks emerge.
Seeking seclusion, I wander at will; mooring in shallow waters, I turn again and again.
Unknown spirit grasses grow here; rare birds sing where they perch.
Evening sun scatters cooing doves; wild paths see rabbits darting by.
Children sing as they haul the cable; farm women stand with flowers in their hair.
Guests sing freely, at ease; returning travelers help each other along the way.
Green rushes grow thick and lush; purple swallows glide past in flight.
Clouds and mist gleam beneath the waves; wells and hamlets appear beyond the woods.
Glad to meet old neighbors from my hometown, ashamed I lack chicken and millet to serve.
I scoop water to offer fresh fish, dig up stones to present wild herbs.
Plum fruits ripen green around the pond; birds' nests perch white on cinnamon boughs.
My cap tilts slightly in relaxation; the stone wine vessel is filled again and again.
Red cherries emerge from fragrant groves; purple bamboo shoots grace the carved plate.
Your lofty verses shine like pearls and jade; such joy surpasses bells and drums.
Alas, my nature is narrow by birth; in worldly affairs, I am ever clumsy.
I long to discard official robes, return to tend the fields and gardens.
Indulge in the joy of mountains and rivers, free myself from the dust of worldly toil.
This retreat is truly worth pursuing, yet such words should not be spoken in haste.
Sages guard the temple of the state; worthy men fill the ranks of court.
With the ideals you hold in heart, you should contribute to the times.
Your elegant writings aid imperial plans; your grand discourse steadies the nation's course.
Do not stoop for a meager official salary, thus bending your far-reaching ambition.
A clear heart finds its true confidant; I blush with shame at empty praise.
Now the state seeks great vessels of talent—why flaunt a worthless gourd?
Wealth and honor are desired by all, but hopeless wishes long restrain themselves.
Sages left behind this teaching: strive together toward a shared goal.
I've heard of the Doctrine of the Mean—it never stagnates in advance or retreat.
Advance to bring grace to the people; retreat to guard one's humble home.
What we seek is righteousness and proportion, the key is to keep oneself unstained.
May I never abandon these words of mine; in the Way, perhaps I may draw near.